So, as I turned the corner into the men’s locker room, I stepped
to the side to make way for a couple of guys who were just coming out – hm-m,
make that ‘leaving the locker room,’ ahem – and glancing to the right, caught
sight of an upper middle aged, fat, sweaty jasper with a weekend beard,
plastered hair and a thoroughly exhausted mien.
Then I realized it was a mirror.
Those of you who laughed are not my friends.
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